"Alright, brother, I’ll start digging tonight and get with you tomorrow."
Standing up from my stool, I nod in agreement before heading to my room to turn in for the night.
I’m grabbing myself a cup of coffee from the kitchen the next morning after another sleepless night when I run into Reid.
"We need to talk," he says sounding irritated as he walks past me, not bothering to stop. Following him, Reid leads me out the back door of the clubhouse towards a picnic table towards the corner of the yard.
"You want to tell me why the fuck you have me digging into the biggest fucking drug lord in Miami?" He barks.
Keeping my expressions neutral, I answer him, "I told you it was personal," I remind him as I sit down on top of the table, resting my forearms on my knees.
"When you have me checking up on your sister, that’s personal. It’s a whole other ball game when I’m tapping into a man like Santino, Gabriel. When you mentioned drugs and fights, I imagined a low-level gang punk. If a man like Miguel Santino catches someone snooping around in his dealings, that comes back on the club."
"Thought you knew how not to get caught, brother."
"I do." Reid scoffs. "But people like Santino, have people like me making sure nobody is sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong. All I’m saying is you should have fuckin’ warned me as to who I was dealing with. Fucking hell, Gabriel."
"Well, now that you’re done bitchin’, you want to tell me whatcha got?" I ask taking a swallow of my coffee.
Running his hands through his hair Reid takes a seat next to me.
"Not much to tell man. No more than you already knew. Miguel Santino is smart, he doesn’t leave a paper trail."
"Yeah, I figured as much. Thanks anyway, brother." I go to stand when he asks.
"You going to tell me what your deal is with this guy?"
Looking him straight in the eyes, I deliver to him something I’ve only ever told Logan.
"Miguel Santino is the man responsible for my father’s death."
Turning, I walk back to the clubhouse, not bothering to wait for Reid’s reaction. It’s no secret that I’m a very private person. I don’t divulge to anyone much about my past. Logan is the only one of the brothers that knows the most. Jake only has the cliff’s notes. Now Reid has a little bit more of me. I wanted him to understand the reason the information meant so much to me.
Later that afternoon, I’m at my shop finishing up a back piece for a repeat customer, when the door chimes. A middle-aged man in a dark suit walks in. It’s not uncommon to have suits walk in from time to time. You’d be surprised at how many of your corporate types have ink. With Blake gone to lunch, I stand up, take my gloves off, and toss them in the trash bin beside my work station.
"Give me a minute." I tell the guy who’s laid out in my chair.
"Sure, man. I need a smoke anyway." He says, getting up and walking out the door.
"What can I do for ya?" I ask the suit walking in his direction.
"Gabriel Martinez?"
"Yeah, that’s me." I tell him. I take a moment to size him up. The guy is about six feet tall, his dark hair is buzzed close to his scalp. On closer inspection, he’s definitely not corporate at all. Aside from his fancy suit, he looks street. Right down to the scars covering his knuckles.
"I’m here on behalf of Mr. Santino. He has requested a meeting with you."
I tense at the mention of Santino.
"Not interested." I convey in a bored tone while trying to keep my anger in check.
My senses go on high alert when he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket. In one swift movement, I slip my hand into my cut, pulling out my gun, and press the barrel to his forehead.
"You better think about your next move very carefully pendejo asshole."
Seeming unfazed, aside from the slight tick of his jaw, the man slowly removes his hand from his suit holding a card. With my gun still trained on him, I reach with my other hand and pluck it from his grasp.
"I assure you Mr. Martinez, you want to take this meeting." Without another word the man turns and walks out of my shop. Now I’m left wondering what the hell Santino is up to.
"Fuck." I mutter out loud. I look down at the card in my hand which has an address written on it.
"So, are you going, man?" Reid asks me later that day at the clubhouse. After finishing up with my client I closed the shop early. I needed a fucking drink. I was still reeling from the recent invitation I received from Santino.
"Fuck, I don’t know. This is the son of a bitch responsible for my father’s death. I might be tempted to put a bullet in his head the moment I see him. Hell, I should have done it years ago." Blowing out a frustrated breath, I turn to Reid. "My instincts are telling me to take the meeting."
"You need to bring the club in on this, brother. Prez will be pissed if you go to this meetup alone."
"Not yet. Not going to involve the club unless I have to. I’ll take the meeting, see what he wants."
"Dammit, Gabriel. Men like Santino don’t request a meetup without cause. You think he wants to sit around and shoot the shit with you? Ask you how you been? No. This man wants something from you, brother. He didn’t stay in town and find out where you work for nothin’. My guess is he knows all about the Kings too. This whole situation reeks. And Prez is going to have your ass, when he finds out what you’re doing."
"I’m not involving the club." I say with finality, looking Reid in the eyes. "I’ll accept whatever consequences come from not telling Jake. For now, this is my business, and I’ll handle as I see fit." My tone leaving no room for argument.
"Fuck." Reid mumbled, running his hand down his face. "Well, I guess it’s going to be my ass too, cause I’m coming with you. No way can I let you go in alone."
"Thanks man, I appreciate it." I say smirking at him when he stands up from his stool, cursing under his breath.
"Yeah, yeah, asshole. I’ll see you in the morning. I’d like to get this shit over with as soon as possible."
The next morning, Reid and I drive to the address listed on the card given to me. It’s a local hotel a few miles from the clubhouse and not a place I pictured Santino staying. Not with the kind of money he has. But then again, Polson doesn’t have much in the way of luxury hotels. Still, I was expecting our meeting to be more private. Getting off our bikes, Reid and I walk into the lobby of the hotel. Striding up to the front desk, I spot a middle-aged woman typing away on a computer.
"Can I help you?" She asks in a bored tone, not bothering to look up.
"I’m here to see Miguel Santino. Can you ring his room and tell him he has a visitor?" At the sound of my voice she startles, looking up. With her mouth gaping open, she runs her eyes over the length of me. It’s not every day she has two members of the Kings strolling into her hotel. Before the stunned woman has a chance to respond, a voice calls over my shoulder.
"That won’t be necessary."
Hearing the familiar voice brings back a time in my life I wish I could forget. Turning around, I stare into the eyes of Miguel Santino. My fingers itching to pull out my knife and slit his throat.
"Gentleman." Miguel says motioning to some chairs in the corner of the lobby.
I follow him over with Reid behind me. I notice three of his men throughout the lobby. I clocked them about two seconds after entering the hotel. Pretty sure that’s how he knew we were here.
"I’m glad you decided to meet with me, Mr. Martinez."
"Enough of the formalities bullshit." I say cutting him off. "Just get to the part where you tell me what the hell you want."
"Very well." Santino replies with a smile. "I want you and your club to do something for me."
"No." I snap as I stand up from my seat.
"Do you not want to hear my terms?" He presses as I go to leave.
Turning, I reply. "I don’t give two fucks about your terms. My club and I aren’t doing shit for you."
"That’s too bad, Gabriel. I was
looking forward to working with you."
I make it a few steps before he calls out.
"How’s your sister?" My steps falter and chills run down my spine.
"I don’t always bank on luck, Mr. Martinez. Running into you after all these years was quite a nice surprise. When my nephew asked me to swing by and see his fight, I thought what the hell, I was in Seattle on business. I never approved of his decision to get himself mixed up with biker trash, but family is family."
What the hell is he talking about?
"I see the wheels turning in your head. I believe you refer to my nephew as ’prospect’. Daniel told me all about your sister and has been all too forthcoming about your little club. As you know blood is thicker than water. His loyalty lies with his real family."
"Fuck." I hear Reid curse under his breath. I now know why I’ve not heard from her. I knew something about that shit wasn’t right. Standing very still, I listen to Santino speak.
"This decision was made for you when you showed up at that fight and I spotted you across the room with my nephew. I always seek revenge Gabriel. I know all about your club and the man you call your President. You’re a pawn, Mr. Martinez. You and your club. One I plan on using."
"Leyna is a very beautiful woman. It would be a shame for something to happen to her." He says in a pleasing tone as he stands from his seat, buttoning his suit coat. His casualness of the situation pissing me off.
At his words, I turn and go to rush him when I feel a hand reach out and grab my bicep.
"Not here, brother." Reid warns me. And fuck if he’s not right. This is exactly why Santino chose a public place.
"Hijo de puta. Son of a bitch." I growl, stepping right into Miguel’s face.
"You give me what I want, and I’ll return your sister to you. It’s that simple."
"I want proof she’s alive." I challenge.
Pulling out his phone, Santino presses a button and places the phone to his ear.
"Put the girl on." After a moment, he hands me the phone.
"Leyna, Estas bien You okay?"
"Si hermano Yes brother, I’m fine. What’s going on Gabriel? These men—” That’s all my sister gets out before the line goes dead.
Reaching into the inside of his suit jacket Santino pulls out a cell phone.
"I’ll be in touch," he says tossing the phone at me without so much as second glance. All I can do is watch him walk out of the hotel with his men following behind.
When Reid and I return to the clubhouse, I head straight for Daniel’s room. I want the motherfucker dead. When I open his door, I see he’s not here. Striding over to the closet, I yank it open and see all his shit is gone. The fucking pussy ran.
"MIERDA! FUCK!" I bellow.
Chapter Seven
Alba
I awake with a start feeling nauseous. What the hell? I didn’t even drink last night. The pub Leah, Sam and I went to was very strict on checking IDs, not that I would have tried to drink. Suddenly my stomach lurches. I jump out of bed, running to the bathroom. I barely get the lid to the toilet lifted before I vomit, losing the entire contents of my stomach. With a groan, I pick myself up off the floor. Walking over to the sink, I look in the mirror. My skin is pale and my eyes have dark circles. Must have been something I ate last night making me sick. I’ll see how Leah is feeling when I see her this morning for coffee. She ordered the same thing for dinner that I did.
After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I pull my hair back into a ponytail. I decide to forgo any makeup before heading to my closet to pick out something to wear. With how I’m feeling today, it’s a yoga pants and t-shirt kind of day. Walking over to my desk, I grab my cell phone and keys, before heading out the door. When I make it to the café, I spot Leah sitting at a table in the far corner.
"Hey, have you been waiting on me long?" I ask her.
"Nope, just got here myself. And I already ordered for you."
"You’re a lifesaver, Leah. I need caffeine pronto." I tell her slumping in my chair. "I’ve been so tired lately. And to top it all off I woke up this morning sick to my stomach." Speaking of that reminds me. "Didn’t you order the same food as me last night? You feel okay this morning?"
"Yeah, I feel fine." She replies with concern. "You think it was something you ate making you feel sick?"
"I don’t know. Maybe. I feel better now though. Probably just a fluke. You know stress or something." I shrug.
Changing the subject. "So, my RA told me the girl who was supposed to room with me got an off-campus apartment. Looks like I’m all alone, unless you try to switch dorms. Didn’t you mention you’re not too crazy about your roommate?"
"Ugh. Don’t get me started. Stacy is awful. She acts as if everything about me offends her. My hair, my clothes."
"This is perfect." I say with excitement. "You have to see about getting transferred. Please." I beg.
"Okay, I’ll talk with someone tomorrow. Won’t hurt to try. Plus, I don’t think I can make it a whole year with Stacy. If nothing else, I’ll tell the school her choice of perfume makes my asthma act up." Leah grins.
"Wait, you have asthma? Does it get bad?"
"Sometimes, but I always have my inhaler. And I know all my limits. It’s fine Alba, I promise. Don’t look at me like I’m going to have an attack on you right now."
"Sorry, it’s just you’re my friend. I’ll always worry about you." I see Leah roll her eyes at my statement, but I don’t miss the small smile she tries to hide by ducking her head.
Later that day, I decide I need to stop by the store. Bella and Logan gave me a credit card and told me to use it for whatever I need while I’m at school.
As I’m walking from my dorm to the student parking lot, when I get an eerie feeling of being watched. Glancing over my shoulder, I take in my surroundings. I only see students milling around from point A to point B. Shaking the feeling off, I pick up my pace, reaching my truck. I go to reach for the door handle when I notice a piece of paper under the windshield wiper. Sweeping my head from side to side, looking around once again, for someone I may recognize, but come up short. Leaning over the hood, I lift the wiper, retrieving the folded piece of paper. Opening it, I read—
Alba,
I wanted to tell you how beautiful you look today.
Okay, this is creepy. Who the hell would write me something like this? I don’t even know anyone here except Leah and Sam. Something tells me this is not Sam. He’s sweet, but not creepy. Suddenly, I think about the flowers I received.
Climbing into my truck, I make a mental note to ask Sam if he’s messing with me. My gut is telling me no.
I’m walking down one of the isle of the grocery store in search of microwave popcorn, when I run into Professor Green.
"Hello, Alba." He greets with a warm smile. I notice him holding one of those hand baskets, filled with various items.
"Hi, Professor Green. How are you?"
"Oh please, you call me Calvin when we’re not in class. Professor Green makes me feel old." He smirks.
Not knowing what else to say, I fidget with my shopping basket.
"Well, it was nice to see you Professor—I mean Calvin. I’ll see you in class Monday." I tell him, attempting to step around him. I’m the epitome of socially awkward. When he doesn’t move, I look up at him. I see something pass over his face, but then it’s quickly gone before smiling.
"Yeah Alba, I’ll see you Monday." He says stepping aside, letting me pass. That was weird.
Back in my dorm, I’m putting the snacks I bought at the store away, when my phone chimes with a text. Opening it, I see it’s from Leah.
Leah: I emailed student housing about putting in a dorm transfer. Fingers crossed.
Me: Yes! Fingers crossed!
I send a silent prayer that Leah becomes my new roommate. I hate being alone. Nights are the worst. Sitting down on my bed, I close my eyes remembering the last time I slept through the night. The last time I felt completely safe.
> How can one of the best memories of your life also be one of the worst? What I wouldn’t give to feel Gabriel’s warmth beside me. To have him wrap those strong tattooed arms around me, and to feel the scruff of his beard on my cheek when he holds me close. And no matter how much his last words gutted me, I can’t bring myself to hate him, or regret the last night we spent together. The way Gabriel touched me, held me, and made love to me showed me he cares. Even if his words said the opposite. It will be the memory of his touch I’ll keep with me always.
Knowing sleep is inevitable right now, I sit down at my desk and fire up my computer. Scrolling through Facebook, I see a few new releases by a couple of my favorite authors and my fingers "accidently" one-click. I continue to scroll down when I see an author looking for suggestions on a cover designer. Clicking on her page I see she’s a romance writer. Chewing on my lip, I contemplate emailing her.
"Screw it." I say out loud. It won’t hurt to try, right? Typing out an email and attaching about a dozen of my designs along with all my contact information, I then click send.
The next morning, I wake feeling sick much like the day before. What the hell is going on with me? Probably stress. Lord knows the past several months—hell the past year—has been a nightmare. Thankfully this morning I’m not hugging the toilet. After a few deep breaths the wave of nausea has disappeared.
Sitting up in bed, I look up at the clock on the wall and see I have several hours before class. On Mondays my first class isn’t till after lunch. Rolling out of bed, I glance out the window and notice it’s pouring rain. This makes me smile. Call me weird, but I love rainy and cloudy days. I’m just finishing up in the bathroom, when I remember the email I sent last night. Grabbing my laptop off my desk, I sit on my bed and pull up my email. I have a reply already. Nervously, I click open the message.
"Holy crap!" The author wants to buy two of my designs, as is. Then she goes on asking about pricing, and do I have a website, etc. I can’t freaking believe this. I spend the next couple of hours building my website and setting up a Paypal account. When I’m finished, I email the author back with what I’m charging along with my website information. I still can’t believe something I created is going to be on a book.
The Darkest Of Light (The Kings Of Retribution MC Book 2) Page 6